


overcast

by trykynyx



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 21:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4682195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trykynyx/pseuds/trykynyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their bodies are curled together as they had in Leto’s belly, impenetrable comfort despite the chaos raging outside. Together they glow in the low light of the overcast day like they had beneath their mother’s skin, before Artemis resigned herself to do battle with the world, to wait for her brother to follow. (And he had, with more pomp and circumstance to be sure, but he always lets her blaze the trail.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	overcast

The air is so still it feels like a cool sheet laid over the top of them, the light grey of the clouds like folds in the fabric. She does not have to see him, he does not have to see her– in the quiet they are beyond seeing. With closed eyes she knows the way the green of the grass stands against his skin, he knows the way the stern set of her lips has eased into something softer.

Their bodies are curled together as they had in Leto’s belly, impenetrable comfort despite the chaos raging outside. Together they glow in the low light of the overcast day like they had beneath their mother’s skin, before Artemis resigned herself to do battle with the world, to wait for her brother to follow. (And he had, with more pomp and circumstance to be sure, but he always lets her blaze the trail.)

She is caught in the rhythm of their breathing, like the sound of the tides on the shores of Delos, when his hand reaches for hers.

“I miss this.” His fingers stroke hers, their calluses grazing, beauty of the lyre and beauty of the bow. “I miss you.”

“Only when you remember to,” she chides, eyes still closed, “Don’t be melodramatic.”

“Well, I remember more often than I used to.” She can feel the wrinkle in his brow, haughty and indignant.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she croons, a silliness that has only ever been for him.

“You never could carry a tune, thank the Fates you had me.” He means it as a joke, but she doesn’t take it as one, and seriousness floods her body like cold water.

“Yes,” she says, his hand clasped tight in hers, “Thank the Fates.”

He brings his other hand up without looking, without thinking, and their fingers are wrapped together tight as a Gordian knot. He can feel the tremor in her bones, the sincerity making her shudder like a live wire. It is his mouth that is serious now, a cloud passing across the face of the sun.

They fall silent again, but it is heavier than before, fuller. The clouds are darker and lower. They pull together, mirror’s reflections, knees and foreheads touching.

“Your world is getting so much bigger,” she whispers, so lightly he can barely feel her breath against his skin. “Yours is growing, and mine is fading away.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just presses himself closer, and she pulls him in.

“I’m afraid.” Her voice is so quiet now that only he could hear it, he who sang to her in the darkness before the world. “Please, don’t let me fade away.”

“Never,” he says as they open their eyes together, so close there is nothing to see but each other. “Never.”


End file.
